A Man Isn't Tiny Or Giant Enough

Is There Not A Sort Of Remorse That Precedes Sin? Was It Remorse At The Very Fact That I Existed?

A Man Isn't Tiny Or Giant Enough To Defeat Anything.

Amid The Moon And The Stars, Amid The Clouds Of The Night, Amid The Hills Which Bordered On The Sky With Their Magnificent Silhouette Of Pointed Cedars, Amid The Speckled Patches Of The Moon, Amid The Temple Buildings That Emerged Sparkling White Out Of The Surrounding Darkness - Amid All This, I Was Intoxicated By The Pellucid Beauty Of Uiko's Treachery.

He Had Never Looked Forward To The Wisdom And Other Vaunted Benefits Of Old Age. Would He Be Able To Die Young—and If Possible Free Of All Pain? A Graceful Death—as A Richly Patterned Kimono, Thrown Carelessly Across A Polished Table, Slides Unobtrusively Down Into The Darkness Of The Floor Beneath. A Death Marked By Elegance.

Was I Ignorant, Then, When I Was Seventeen? I Think Not. I Knew Everything. A Quarter-century's Experience Of Life Since Then Has Added Nothing To What I Knew. The One Difference Is That At Seventeen I Had No 'realism'.